Severus Snape was confused, not that he looked it. No, on the surface he looked annoyed, and rather menacing, Potions Master's scowl set firmly in place. But underneath he was mystified. He had come to Diagon Alley to purchase a few much needed potions ingredients. After perusing the Apothecary and collecting the required supplies, he had come across some very dissatisfactory Irish toad's saliva; really was it so hard to comprehend that if it was not stored at the correct temperature then the saliva would turn this putrid yellow and be rendered useless? Not that he would have cared on any other day, but today it so happened that the saliva of the Irish toad was the last item on his list, and there was no way in all of the wizarding world that he was going to pay twelve galleons for this sludge.
So he had taken a vial of the merchandise in question and had swept up to the front counter, with the accustomed swirl of his robes. The boy at the counter had been most apologetic, he didn't know why that particular product was not stored properly, he was merely there to stock shelves and man the desk; he didn't know anything about the subtle art of potion brewing. The boy had just begun to move around the barrier to go into the back room in search of a more acceptable sample, when he had suddenly frozen in place.
And that was where they stood now, the boy standing limply, gazing at Severus, blathering on in fragmented sentences of nonsense, and Severus glaring at him, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. "Sir … I, I mean, you … understand … eyes, please Sir" the boy mumbled, his dark fringe of hair falling forward into pale green eyes as he swayed where he stood. The brief break in eye contact seemed to help and for a moment the boy struggled towards clarity. "I will go … back room … get more … eyes" he stammered. And suddenly Severus knew what had happened and quickly shifted his obsidian gaze to the front window of the little shop. The boy trembled, shook his head as though to clear it, and moved shakily to the storeroom at the back of the shop.
How had this happened? Why now? Severus' mind whirled, his thoughts racing about in his mind. He hadn't lost control of his thrall for nearly three hundred years, since he was no more than a fledgling. It was unacceptable to force his power on a mortal, a mere boy, what was going on? As he waited for the undoubtedly now confused and embarrassed boy to return, he reached back into his mind, locating the link between him and his mate and examined the connection. With a start he realised that the link was blurry, his mate reading more as 'unwell', and 'not there' than the customary 'fine' and 'present'. His vampire instincts shifted uneasily. He could feel his fangs begin to lengthen, his pupils dilating rapidly.
With a wrench he pushed back these normal reactions to the insinuation that his mate might be in danger, and acknowledged the newly returned shop boy, ignoring the stuttered apologies and paid for the fresh vial of saliva, along with the other ingredients that he had gathered. Without so much as even a look back he took his bag and swept from the store, hurrying down the lane. After a series of brisk steps he apparated to the boundary at Hogwarts and continued at his rapid pace until he had safely reached his rooms in the dungeon. The cool air and dark, nearly damp, feel did little to calm the turmoil that he was experiencing. Dropping his things on a side table he ran the last few paces into his bedroom, ripping open his personal potions cupboard and yanking the cork from one small bottle he downed the vinegary purple concoction inside.
Severus sat heavily on his bed, fighting to control the basic urges that commanded him to go, find his mate, gather him in his arms and protect him from all harm. It became easier as the repressing effect of the potion, which he himself had formulated, slowly masked his instincts, slowing his breathing, drawing back his exposed fangs. So long, so long had he kept his nature locked away, letting the vampire out only to feed when the thirst became a fire raging at the back of his throat. Yet he had nearly lost control today, there in the Apothecary, nearly let the vampire take over. He shuddered to think of the sight he would have made; fangs bared, talons out, skin pale, eyes black, running down the middle of Diagon Alley, trying to find an unknown mate and protect him from unknown foes. No, that could not happen. Severus stood, and reached into his cupboard again, this time taking out a vial of sleeping potion. It wouldn't make him sleep, he hadn't slept in over three hundred years, not since he had be turned, but it would put him in a restful state, much like the state achieved through intense meditation. Swallowing the potion in one gulp, he loosened a few on the many buttons at his color and removed his outer robe, which he wore despite the extreme heat of the mid August sun. Lying down on the bed, he felt the potion taking effect, pulling him into a deep chasm of darkness.
The July sun was brutal, bearing down on all that dared to venture outside with a vengeance. But Severus remained unbothered and unaware. He was cool, calm and mostly collected. He had to be, he was brewing a very particular potion. It wasn't just any potion, it was Ab Intra Incendia, and he was brewing for the Dark Lord. No mistake could be made; this potion was one of the most lethal, used as a form of torture; when consumed it turned the victim's inner organs to fire, but sustained life for hours.
Just as he was adding the chopped beetles' eyes, he felt it. His mate had been born! He carefully schooled his shaking hand into obedience, placing the dish of eyes on the workbench. He trembled, shivered and shook, sweat dotting his brow. He must go to his mate, to see him, claim him (in only the verbal sense, of course, the formal 'claiming' would wait until his mate was grown and strong and ready). At the very least he needed to go to him, follow the link that was pulling him while the connection was strong enough for him to do so.
But no. With a sensation much like ripping off one's fingernails one by one, Severus resolutely pushed the call to the back of his mind, surrounding it with barriers, determinedly ignoring the agony. He would not deny his mate; it would kill them both, but he would not drag him into the world of danger that he (Severus) had built for himself. So he finished the potion, bottling the product and leaving it in the enchanted chest that would later be delivered to his Lord. That done, he dragged himself back to his rooms, dropped to the floor in the center of his sitting room and wished for his mate, or death, in equal measures.
Severus blinked back to awareness, his memory/dream weighing heavily on his mind. He had kept the call barricaded in his mind for so long that he could barely tell it was there anymore, telling himself every year that next year he would find his mate, next year would be the year that he would make the bond known. The normally stoic man lifted a hand at covered his eyes, surprised to find his hand wet when he pulled away. 'Tears' he thought in wonderment, 'I am crying, I haven't cried in over seventeen years.' What was he going to do? He couldn't go to his mate, the link was withered, barely pulsing with the other's presence, he would not be able to pick him from a crowd of people, even if they were in the same room together.
Severus sighed, the sound more broken than he would ever admit. Albus, right, he would have to tell Albus, perhaps the old coot would have an idea, or maybe he would offer tea and lemon drops and a sympathetic smile. Buttoning his collar and grabbing his cloak, Severus started out of his room and out of the dungeon, headed for the Headmaster's office, wishing in equal parts for his mate, or for death.
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So here is chapter two - I am eternally sorry for the horribly long wait. My only defence is that I have a number of chapters written, and will be posting once a week until I run out of chapters to post :) Please forgive me. Also, huge thanks to all who reviewed; You are all awesome! As well, much gratitude to my beta, jigginbatty, without whose hard work and incredibly fast turn-over times, this fic would cease to exist.
Thanks for reading and happy reviewing!
Steppenwolf